


お龗 - Ōkami

by hanzhoe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Author Really Loved Inuyasha And It Shows, Background Oni Genji, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Intense Burn, M/M, No Beta Reader We Die Alone, No proofreading we die like mne, Nursing Your New Giant Dog Back To Health, Okami Hanzo Shimada, Redemption, Slow Burn, Sorcerer Reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:36:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanzhoe/pseuds/hanzhoe
Summary: You've never been one to leave the dying on your doorstep, let alone the hunted in your woods.





	1. Into the Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inde/gifts).



> yall are real bad at commenting things other than 'update soon' huh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a lot going down in my life right now but I really wanted to get this out the door despite writer's block and life stuff, yanno?
> 
> This is pure wish fulfillment, have fun!

The massive silver beast barrelled through the undergrowth with little care for grace or stealth, a stark contrast to his preferred methods. It was desperately necessary, however, if he slowed for even a second to look over his shoulder he'd suffer for it, even more than he was now. A tree nearby exploded under a spray of bullets shot too wide to hit, forcing him to push on, stamina draining alongside blood from his wounds. Three hours ago he'd been asleep in a cave he'd considered his own for the first few weeks of winter. He'd thought himself safe. He couldn't believe he'd thought himself _safe_.

_Foolishness._

The roar of a motorcycle closed a little of the distance, a testament to his slowing speed despite his best efforts, its rider yelled something to their companions before there was a sound like a hundred staccato whipcracks and suddenly burning pain lanced through three of his four legs, sending him careening, head over tail, into the trees he'd been dodging as he fled.

Unfortunately the trees, regardless of their age and size, were no match for his momentum and weight. Snapping and shattering like twigs, adding to the cacophony as the three other motorcyclists caught up with their now-hobbled prey. The one who'd closed the distance first dismounted his motorcycle and picked his way through the splintered forest remains, shoving low-hanging branches out of his face with the barrel of his rifle, arrogance overtaking caution as he got closer to the creature's still body. He wondered which would fetch a higher price: the pelt, snow white and huge; the teeth, sharp and showy trophies; or the eyes, deep brown and bigger than his fist.

The would-be-hunter's foot cracked a twig in two.

One of those eyes snapped open and fixed him with a calculated stare.

The wolf, done with playing dead, lunged and clamped his massive jaws around the man's abdomen, wrenching him clean in half before launching the bleeding chunk of human at the other three so quickly they barely had time to register their leader's death. The torso hit one of his accomplices who went down screaming, finger reflexively pulling the trigger to his gun and hailing the beast's left side with an irregular line of bullets. It didn't matter, the creature was already charging across the clearing despite his injuries before setting upon the other two, mouth dripping and fur stained with blood.

A mile away your head snapped up from your work and you set your delicate jewellers tools down with too much force, the necklace you'd been working on jangling in offense from its perch on a velvet bust.

Someone had tripped your wards.

Someone _big_.

You stood sharply, chair skittering away from you and your workbench, forgotten, as you made your way single-mindedly toward your desk before setting about rooting through the many, many drawers it held. Was it under that stack of invoices for your work? No.  Was it behind those empty ink bottles? No, also you swore under your breath. You kept telling yourself to refill them. Was it--yes! Between the pages of your drafts sketchbook! You gripped the semi-water damaged spine in one hand (making a mental note to perhaps stop drafting designs while in the bath) and shook it impatiently. A gold disc, perhaps the size of a flattened tennis ball fell into your waiting fingers, hot to the touch. A warning.

The sigil, hand etched into its otherwise smooth surface by you years ago, thrummed alarmingly when you rubbed your thumb over it. Something hadn't merely _tripped_ your wards, it had _obliterated_ them. A frown creased your brow heavily while you considered this, body already moving to gather your coat and boots while your mind ran down the possibilities. It was a concerningly short list. The only things with the power to destroy your wards so thoroughly were high-level demons, and none would be coming to pay you a _friendly visit._

"None of them pay me _at all_." You grumbled, voice quiet from disuse as you gripped your front door handle, a trail of flung magical items in your wake, all deemed too bulky or too pointless to bring with you to what you anticipated would be a showdown. "Watch the place for me, would you?" You asked over your shoulder before leaving. The orange and white cat you shared your home with flicked an ear in response, not deigning to look up, but you knew he'd heard as you closed the door behind you.

You cast your eyes up the alpine slope your wooden home was nestled into, breath coming in visible puffs, before thinning your lips in determination. It would be a long walk to the epicenter of the magical disturbance, once you found it, of course. To this end you retrieved a pair of spectacles with a frankly appalling amount lenses in a distasteful spread of colours from your coat's inner pocket and held them up to your eyes, flicking between several lenses until the sky was yellow, the clouds purple, and your magic visible. It arced upwards, anchored invisibly somewhere in the distant woods and stretching, hot pink and wild, though the air, raw end thrashing like an unmanned hose against the sky. At least this told you only one part of your barrier had suffered, that cut down repair time by a fair margin.

"Ever onward." You murmured as you replaced the glasses once you had a clear heading and started your trek, steeling yourself for your encounter with whomsoever had decided to pay you an unsavoury visit.

\---

His chest heaved as he limped through the undergrowth slowly, two out of four legs almost completely out of commission but still he pressed on. He had to. If he strained his ears back he could hear them, _reinforcements_. The final leap, he mused to himself, slowed by wounds and exhaustion had been a second too late to stop the last hunter standing from hitting the radio on his chest and spitting his location out before he became a groaning mound of meat.

There was another thought that crashed into him as a paw buckled and threw him into a snowdrift, it washed over his senses in waves, regardless of how hard he tried to push back and it only became deafening when he realised he didn't have the strength to stand.

_This is how you deserve to die. Alone. Honourless. Unredeemed._

He pushed back against his thoughts and the ground, willing himself to stand, to move, to escape.

It didn't work, and to make matters worse the footsteps he could have sworn were behind him now crunched toward his form from the front. His jaw clenched tightly against a howl of frustration and melancholy. No time for that. No use. Only one recourse left. He turned his face toward the sound, blood having long since welded his left eye shut and dragged his right up to face the hunter.

 _Look your killer in the eyes before you fail one last time. Just like_ **_he_ ** _did._

He looked down. They frowned up, craning their neck. The sight of a dying demon wolf the size of a small house seemed to paint their features with a clear confusion that he could discern even in his state, thoughts and heartbeats slowing as the ornately carved blade in their hand dropped back to their side while they took in the creature in pitiful shape before them and the crashing sounds of others charging through the forest.

"Hmm." You intoned, surprise flattened into monotone by the seriousness of the situation you'd come across before your expression hardened. " _Disgusting_."

The wolf snarled half-heartedly, canines the length of your forearm bloodied and visible as his lip curled over them. You ignored it, sniffing haughtily as you turned your head away to glance down the ravaged length of him. The snow crunched under your boots as you walked past his face to stand in front of his bared stomach, confident that despite his size, he was in no condition to attack you. He watched your approach and manoeuvring with suspicion, were you going to gut him? Deny him even the dignity of a swift end?

To his surprise you simply turned on your heel, set your back to him and a small disc on the ground, and flicked the blade you'd kept in your hand sharply. What he'd assumed to be a dagger extended into a polearm nearly as tall as he was that you handled deftly through some minor flourishes while the disc at your feet melted the snow under it so rapidly it sublimated, steam rising from the point you'd laid it. He watched as the effect crept to him seemingly deliberately, the warmth sinking into his bones, calming shivers he didn't realise he was suffering.

" _Poachers_." He heard you hiss under your breath, venom dripping from the word near-tangibly as you glowered into the trees before the first of his pursuers broke though.

He could have sworn you laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are appreciated!


	2. Though You May Encounter Wolves

The fight, if you could call it that, was over quickly. After all, there was stark a difference to fighting a trained sorcerer as opposed to a sleep-deprived, wounded demon, especially when the former had spent years carving failsafe sigils into near every tree on their land. It was a difference the hunters who'd stupidly trespassed would never be able to appreciate given their decidedly  _ final _ conditions. 

You let your gaze slide away from the tree roots swelling and crawling to consume the bodies littering the ground and instead honed in on the sole working eye of the wolf you had, you supposed,  _ defended. _ That sounded _ strange _ to you.

"I'm not in the habit of saving demon lords." You started, regarding him carefully, voice pitched low and somewhat curious. He watched you back with matching wariness before huffing a breath of hot air in what you recognised as scorn. You wrinkled your nose. Giant wolves, it seemed, did not brush their teeth. An eyebrow raised in response as he let his gaze linger on your cheeks and hands pointedly. ' _ Not exactly a pretty picture yourself, thank you very much,' _ seemed to be his response. You let the subject drop.

His eye continued to follow your hand as your spear retracted back into itself and you hooked it back at your hip before reaching for one of his many, many bullet wounds. He tensed visibly, a low growl starting in the back of his throat as your hand neared. A hollow threat, you both knew. If he was in any position to defend himself he would have done so by now, not simply lay down and bled out while you fought. Still, he growled, hackles raising ever so slightly, warning you off. You paused, hand hovering, eyes still on the ripped flesh in front of you. It would be so  _ easy _ to just ignore his protests. To heal what was hurt whether he liked it or not and then part ways forever. You could go back to your cabin and your work and your cat, he could go back to.....wherever he was  prior to this event.

But you knew. You  _ knew. _ Poachers chased prey for a  _ reason _ , your land was your land only so long as you watched over it, and if you destroyed whatever accord that had tenuously formed between yourself and the demon nothing would get solved, the poachers would be back and you'd be out here every day dispatching them until they finally set their sights on  _ you _ .

The air of a held breath strained against your lungs while you stood feelling every possible branching future spiralling out and pressing against the membranes of the moment, each one willing itself to collapse into reality.

The hand dropped, the air sighed, and you closed your eyes while counting to five before opening them again.

'Made' and 'Bed' came to mind. Or perhaps, you mused as you splayed palms at bared teeth to show you meant no harm, it was 'Grave' and 'Dug'.

"I might not be in the  _ habit _ ," You aimed your tone for comforting but landed somewhere around exasperated, "But you're hurt. Badly. On my land. Near my carnivorous trees." As if to illustrate your point one of the said trees creaked intimidatingly forward like a dog craning for a treat. You swatted a few thin branches away from the wolf's hide and the tree rasped back into place reproachfully. He noted the exchange with an apprehension you could just about discern from the way his eye scanned the other trees suspiciously and you decided to take a chance while he wasn't mid-snarl.

" _ May _ I see your wounds?"

The eye snapped back to you again, narrowed this time and you braced yourself for what you were beginning to realise would be an uphill struggle. He turned his face away from you with no small amount of exertion and set his chin down on one of his front paws, huffing a long suffering sigh. You could feel the ' _ If you must' _ rolling off his shoulders.

"I'll be gentle." You mused, only slightly teasing. A flick of his ear said he heard you anyway as you finally lay your hands over the nearest bullet wound and sent your senses probing, trying to ignore how sticky with gore--not all his own--the fur around it was.

A moment passed, your eyes closed but flicking behind their lids as you visualised the workings of his not-inconsiderable anatomy and where it was broken. A low whistle left your lips at the damage you were taking stock of, to call his injuries  _ extensive _ would be an understatement. With every further inch you felt your magic creep in question the answer grew more and more alarming, perhaps he wasn't quite at death's door just yet but he was certainly striding up the garden path.  _ First on the list _ , you thought,  _ is stopping the bleeding. _

"This is going to feel a tad strange." Was all the warning you gave before pushing the magic you'd had gathered in your chest into a steady pulse from your hands that you swiftly matched to his cumbersome heartbeat, slowing the blood that had been flowing from his injuries to a complete stop after a few further beats. The beast shifted under your hands but seemed otherwise disinclined to stop you, somewhere in the back of your mind you entertained the thought that he must have encountered healing magic prior to this incident. If this was commonplace for him, it didn't surprise you, it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that the knowledge of a demon lord residing nearby usually stirred mortals to act aggressively. 

They'd have taken up arms against you too if they knew you were here.

\---

You worked, without rest or complaint, from early morning to dusk on healing the worst of his injuries. For his part, the demon lord mostly gave off the impression of sleeping, though you knew with every ounce of regained strength he was weighing the options of how to get away from you, your death still on the cards.

It didn't faze you. You were putting him back together, you could just as easily take him apart.

What  _ did _ niggle at you, however, was the question that kept circling back around in your mind during moments that required relatively little concentration, knitting bone back together for instance.  _ Why am I doing this, again? _

_ 'Because it was the right thing to do'  _ felt disingenuous, as did _ 'because you cared'. _ You didn't get yourself exiled to the alps by  _ doing the right thing _ and you certainly didn't know this demon lord well enough to  _ care _ . But ' _ because he would make a mess' _ also tasted wrong on your tongue, right alongside your previously given reason of  _ 'because someone would come looking for him' _ . You frowned with your eyes closed still, visualising the path a bullet through the muscle of a shoulder and running healing magic through it like expanding foam, catching the bullet as it pushed its way out of the wound and into your palm. You eyed it, the swirling etchings on its silver surface, the magic that thrummed through those shapes, and arrived an an answer.

Because you were curious.

"Someone out there truly despises you." You mused, not completely aware you were doing it aloud until you looked up and saw an eye watching you carefully with, you noted, a measure of resignation. "These markings," You waggled the bullet in your hand, "They're an anticoagulant hex. Tailored for a ' _ Hanzo _ ', your name, I assume?" The wolf huffed once, sharply. You took that to be a yes.

"Nice name." 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on tumblr over [ Here](http://ofrawrites.tumblr.com/). i take requests and post smaller bits i don't feel warrant AO3 yet.


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